Mademoiselle
by LittleWordsOnKites
Summary: Serizumo/"A vodka martini, shaken not stirred, and with a bowl of red bean paste on the side, please," she said. Kusanagi felt a tough lump go down his throat. Loosening his collar, he replied, "O-Oui, Mademoiselle."


**Kusanagi-"Welcome. I'll be your friendly bartender for this evening. Would you like to try our newest imports or try the local martini on the side?"**

_Ideas265-Psst! Get on with the story and besides, most of the readers that read on this site are too young to drink anyway._

**Kusanagi-"Oh…right….Without the creative minds of GoRA and Yui Kuroe and without the publisher Kodanshia, our fandom wouldn't have existed."**

_Ideas265-But, since I wrote this story, this story belongs to me._

**Kusanagi-"Sit back and enjoy the story, folks, because it's story time with HOMRA."**

* * *

It was late at night when Totsuka suggested that the clansmen should all share a story. Naturally, the light brunette had his camcorder ready to videotape the embarrassing moments, but with his goofy grin, no one suspected anything suspicious.

Swinging his baseball bat around, Yata yawned, "I don't get it. Anna's already asleep and none of us are kids anymore. We all know each other by now." Low muffles of agreement wheezed out of the other clansmen's mouths.

"But doesn't sharing make you feel more unified?" Totsuka asked. "Sure, we know each other by age and name, but do we another's background? Do we know what drives the rest forward? Do we know the hardships each of had to endure, week by week, month after month?"

"Okay. Okay. You've made your point. Don't go all Shakespearean on me or…"

"Charles Dickens," someone piped up. Glancing at one another, each man shared a simple story, a random one at best. If there was a middle or an end or even a beginning at that matter, it was all captured on tape and Totsuka couldn't help but shake the camera between laughs. Surprisingly, Mikoto, their beloved King, had a long winded story ready for such an occasion. It was something about two best friends falling in love and an apocalypse.

"—with his all his might, he brought life back into his lover and they embraced with a kiss. Love rekindled like a lit flame, they got married while the world crumbled under their feet, while the world was bowing down on its knees, while the world swallowed them full. The end." Gesturing to Kusanagi, the bartender, to make him a drink, Mikoto bowed down as his clansmen clapped and cheered to his story.

"You always say the best stories, Mr. Mikoto," Yata sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye. A bottle of eye drops was clearly sticking out of his pockets, but no one seemed to have noticed. The cheers died down and claps died down as Totsuka scanned his camcorder through the crowd.

"Alright, who wants to go next?" Totsuka pointed his camcorder to Kusanagi. "Izumo, you've been a bartender for an odd amount of years. Do you have any _interesting _stories to tell?" Like sheep, everyone turned their heads to the bartender. Kusanagi smiled and threw a rag over the counter.

"I _do_ have one story."

To set the mood, he turned off all the lights, lit a candle, and served up a weak drink to Mikoto. Polishing a dirty shot glass, Mr. Kusanagi drifted down memory lane. "I can remember it like yesterday. It happened one night…"

* * *

_"You've got to be kidding me," Kusanagi sighed. He flipped the light switch up and down, but the bar remained dark. He tried to kick the backup generator back in shape, but all he got was a dead box and no electricity. In the end, he reverted to the traditional way. Rummaging through the storage room for candles, he lit them and scattered them throughout the bar. It gave the bar a bit of a romantic shade, like in those spy movies. But, romance was something Kusanagi wasn't concerned with._

_ With a dirty shot glass in hand and a Japanese to French Translation book in front of him, Kusanagi slowly repeated French phrases and words under his breath._

* * *

"Boring!" **Whack! **"Ow! What was that for?"

"Shut up and listen to my story, shorty. Now where was I…?"

* * *

_From the corner of his eye, he saw the bar door swing open as a beautiful woman walked in. With her wavy hair, red lips, and figure, Kusanagi knew that his hard work would bear fruit._

_ "**Bonjour, Mademoiselle. **How may I serve you?" Kusanagi kept his voice light and smooth as he pulled up a chair for the woman. She gave him a look before taking her seat. Putting her purse on the stool to the right, she pulled her coat off and Kusanagi draped it on the back of her chair. Returning to his side of the counter, Kusanagi pulled off his sunglasses. "Tell me. What would a fine woman, like yourself, like to drink?"_

_ "A vodka martini, shaken not stirred, and with a bowl of red bean paste on the side, please," she said._

_ Kusanagi felt a tough lump go down his throat. Loosening his collar, he replied, "**O-Oui, Mademoiselle**."_

* * *

"What kind of story is this?!"

"If you don't like, I'll stop wasting my breath."

"No! Izumo, please continue. I want to know what happens next."

* * *

_Even the finest bartenders are given weird requests sometimes. Kusanagi did as he was told. When the woman took a sip of her drink and ate a little of the red bean paste, she dropped her 'tough-girl' act and loosened up._

_ "Tell me," Kusanagi whispered. "What drew you into this bar, **Mademoiselle**?"_

_ "Call me Awashima," she blurted. "Hearing the French-tongue from you poisons my martini."_

_ "As you wish," Kusanagi bowed. He glanced up at Awashima, admiring her open attitude. "Call me Kusanagi, but you didn't answer my question. Out of all the bars in the district, you chose this one. I have to admit Awashima, you're a brave woman. It's dangerous to walk out here alone with all the gang activity going around in the area."_

_ Miss Awashima blushed a little as she finished off her martini. "The bar looked lonely as its only clients were candles. I imagined that the bartender could use some business."_

_ "It's nice to know that even a woman appreciates a bartender. I'm touched."_

_The two talked about simple things, barely brushing upon their real, personal lives. Apparently, Awashima was a desk lady for some big corporation called the 'Sword of Damocles', whatever kind of business that was. Her speech patterns, her voice, the little blushes she would make when he complimented her, Kusanagi felt something creep into his heart and it had nothing to do with the fried food he ate for dinner either._

_No. His emotions were getting the best of him. Bartenders and clients can't love each other. By definition, love should be mutual and an understanding must be reached. No. This was a summer fling or whatever. He was just doing his job, listening to his client's story and bad talk. Maybe a few drinks behind the scenes and cleaning dirty shot glasses should cure him right up…_

_No! There was a scratch on his poor bar's counter. Kusanagi rubbed the spot like it was a bruise. "Imperfections…they're so dirty," he muttered under his breath._

_Awashima finished her red bean paste. "You can say that again." In a second, a tip of a blade was pointed right at Kusanagi's neck. The bartender froze and looked up, like a kid who was caught cheating on a test. "Tell me. Are all Red clansmen this gullible?"_

_Kusanagi gave a light chuckle. "I knew 'Awashima' sounded familiar. You're the Blue King's right hand in command, aka the Heartless Woman." Awashima's eyes sent daggers into Kusanagi's soul. He struck a badly tuned note on a priceless instrument._

_"And you're the Red King's right hand in command," she muttered. "Like you said, 'Imperfections…they're so dirty.'" Kusanagi could feel the tip of blade draw out blood on his neck. His eyes flickered from the blade's tip to Awashima and back to the blade's tip._

_He raised both hands into the air. "You've got me good." Ducking low, Kusanagi pinned Awashima's hands against her back and he held the Blue against him. Maybe ducking wasn't a good idea on his part for his blood oozed freely down his skin, but Kusanagi had enough blood and air to say, "But, not good enough."_

_He tossed her sword a good length away for good measures. Of course, Kusanagi was still a gentleman, deep down. Of course, he wouldn't ruin a beautiful woman's nice nails or clothes. But, he was a man. It was nice having Awashima in his arms…Stop. Bartenders can't date clients._

_Speaking of bartenders… "Look, I'm just a bartender," Kusanagi whispered into Awashima's ear. "I'm not asking for trouble, but heck, it always questions me. Let's call it a truce."_

_Awashima bit her tongue. "Fine."_

_"Happy to see you agree." He let her go. Awashima smiled. She ran to her sword and struck back. A blue aura hanging over her, she sent back fast strikes. A red aura surrounded Kusanagi as he deflected the attacks. If any slash landed a hit, it was another dirty mark on his bar. He had no choice but to defend, but he was cornered at his bar counter and once again, his life was in Awashima's hands._

_Through the chaos, the candle lights stayed lit and Awashima's sword was aimed at his heart. The Heartless Woman gave him a closed-smile._

_"I wish I could've paid you better than ending your life, but you know how it goes. Leaders aren't the people they are now without someone reminding them to not stray."_

_"I could say the same for you. I'm still a Red clansman." With a snap, the flames on the candles rose into the air, ready to strike down on them both. He didn't care if the bar burned along with them. He'd rather see the woman's heart melt under death than meet death…well, the way he is now._

_Apparently, Awashima wanted to outrun death's hand for as long as she could. "You're crazy! You'll kill yourself with the bar ablaze."_

_"Die together or don't die at all," Kusanagi shot back. "If you wanted, you could've killed me on your first step into this bar." He thought back to their lovely conversation before this dang bar fight started. What happened to the stories that left their mouths, the smiles and laughs? Was it all lies? Kusanagi smiled. "You don't know, but you've already paid your bill."_

_"Kusanagi, you're insane…" Awashima muttered._

_"Izumo, call me Izumo." He touched the point of the blade with his finger. "Call me 'Crazy' or 'Delusional' or whatever you see fit. It doesn't matter to me." Maybe, it would be nice to see Awashima's smile again, one more time. Carrying happy, last memories sounded nice to Kusanagi. "Well? If I have to go by your hands, then so let it be. But, just know that you're going down with me." He closed his eyes, ready to snap his fingers, waiting for the blade to take down his heart, happy to reunite with his bar and Awashima wherever they go. Maybe then…he and her can talk some more, get to know each other better._

_Awashima hands were steady to make the aim on instinct, but inside, her heart and mind told her it wasn't worth it. She lowered her sword and grabbed Kusanagi by the collar. "I refuse to die in such a petty way." Pushing him aside, she grabbed her purse and threw her coat back on._

_What was this feeling inside of her? Guilt? Pity? Were the standard human morals stopping her from killing a man, a man part of the enemy? She took one final glance at him. "Mark my words, your last day will come." Kusanagi didn't click his tongue nor did he shoot off a rude remark. He acted like a bartender, a gentleman. Hurt, bleeding, and alive, Kusanagi bowed down._

_"**Oui, Mademoiselle**."_

_Two words; the same two words when he accepted her weird request at the counter and same two words she was sure he would say at the end of his days. It wasn't pity. He was sincere. Awashima let go a small smile. "Call me Seri."_

* * *

"If you guys didn't want to hear my story, I could've saved my breath," Kusanagi sighed. All the clansmen were fast asleep, snoring. Finishing cleaning the shot glass, Kusanagi pried the camcorder out of Totsuka's hands. The little sneak! He was never recording in the first place. _But, I think we feel a little closer to one another._ Shrugging, he put the camcorder on the bar shelf. Whistling a tune, Kusanagi heard a familiar voice by the door.

"_A vodka martini with red bean paste by the side, shaken not stirred."_

He didn't have to look at the door before bowing down. "_Oui, mademoiselle."_


End file.
